The following story is fiction about a boy’s quest. The story contains scenes of spanking.  If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

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I’m a deprived boy.  Well actually I’m almost grown up since I am tween and it is willful misconduct by my parents that keep me in this pitiful state.  My parents and their siblings, who are my uncles and aunts, and even Cousin Jake who’s older than one of my uncles tell me wondrous tales about it which they received from my grandparents, from teachers and even an irate shopkeeper and how it helped them grow up to be wonderful citizens but they never let me experience it.

You see it is all because of those horrid laws that got passed and forbid it because it is “bad” if not worse.  Now I can understand some laws like the ones that say ‘do not murder’ and ‘do not steal’ and all those old folks say those are good laws unlike these horrid ones.  So there is a difference and it is not just ignorant me.

Also, it is not just a family thing for it is talked about in books where people tell their life stories and in stories that are fiction but tell how life was.  Many of these are even in books that are for kids like me.  Now I’m not talking about terrible judicial punishment that lead to this line “Another was crippled for life by twenty blows of the knout;” which showed up in a poem in a history lesson.

* * * * * * * * * *

I began a concerted effort to make it happen since I had totally given up on my parents to stop my deprivation.  One of my sitters was strict Stan who wouldn’t take any nonsense from me.  Stan was an athletic guy and he had taken me to the park a few times.  We often met his friends (maybe just guys he knew) and they were frequently playing ball games.  He was often very physical with them – high fiving, punching shoulders and slapping butts and they responded the same way.© YLeeCoyote

So I very promptly started to give him a hard time by not following the rules and even back talking.  It did not take long before he said that I was acting like a little kid who needed a time out on the naughty step but since we did not have any steps I could spend the time in the corner.  I whined at that but I had positioned myself next to him and tried to pull his hand to my butt.

That did not work.  He easily pushed me into the corner and added ten minutes.

That attempt was a total failure.

* * * * * * * * * *

The City Club had a special dinner to honor Mr. Takewell, the retired principal of the local grade school, on his eightieth birthday and twenty years of retirement.  I did not go but ‘rents did but it gave me an idea because the chatter was how well he kept order in the school.  Of course, all that was before the horrid laws were enacted so obviously Mr. Takewell knew all about the stuff I was seeking.  The local newspaper had a lot of details including his address and fascinating details of great interest.  I used the map program and learnt how to get there.  On Saturday morning I cycled over after (naughtily) saying I was going riding in the big park.

Of course, Mr. Takewell was surprised to see me when he opened his door but I explained I had a quest and all the stuff in the paper suggested he could help.  He said he wasn’t sure but he would give it a try. He even added that it would be so nice to talk with a young person for a change which was one of the things he missed after retiring.  I felt like I was in that old movie “Goodbye Mr. Chips” especially that scene where some new kid is pranked into going to see the old man except I knew what I was about.  Just like that kid I got some cake and milk.  Nice.

I asked some questions and he told me lots of stuff and showed me some exciting remembrances.  We talked for a long time and we both enjoyed it.  I asked and then begged for a bit of a demo but he refused because I wasn’t naughty.  I confessed that I was naughty because I lied to my parents but he still refused.  He was afraid because of the horrid laws.

Mr. Takewell was very sympathetic and said he would help when I reach the magic age of eighteen.  But it will be different then.

So, just another failure.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was summer and we were visiting dad’s parents.  Before the folks went on their own vacation, I managed to bring up some of Dad’s stories of how Grandpa had dealt with him.  Gramps was always smiling when we talked and his versions differed from Dad’s mostly in minor ways.  Once Gramps indicated that such things could no longer happen because of the new horrid law although they should, I was careful never to point out the differences which would be called ‘cheeky’ or ‘disrespectful’ and get me confined to my room.  Incidentally, it was Dad’s room which he had shared with a brother when they were growing up so the wall decorations were just right for before the horrid laws were past.

I had hit another dead end in my quest.

* * * * * * * * * *

I did wonder about the next door neighbors, the Wilson’s, however.  One of Dad’s stories was about the time he got into the Wilson’s yard and trampled their flowers.  After a good session with Gramps, the next day he had to go over to them and apologize.  Words were not enough and he got a roasting also.  What I’m thinking is obvious but would old Mr. Wilson do it was the big question.

The Wilson’s also had a guest, Greg.  He was their grandson but already in college.  One night I had a fantastic experience.  It was somewhat past my bedtime so my room was dark and I could see directly into Greg’s room which was well lit.  I pinched myself three times to make sure I was not dreaming.  He was naked but that was not unusual.  That Mr. Wilson was there, fully dressed with a belt in his hand was the surprise.  Then Greg bent over and leaned on the bed and was mooning me.

I was transfixed when Mr. Wilson raised up his hand with the belt and brought it down on Greg’s butt.  I saw a red stripe form.  I’m not sure I was breathing as that act was repeated at least a dozen times.  Soon Greg’s tail was bright red and Mr. Wilson left.  Greg collapsed onto the bed and rubbed his red-hot end for a long time.

And all this happened despite the horrid laws.  Perhaps there was hope for me.  Slowly a plan took shape in my mind.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was two weeks later and I had managed to meet the Wilson’s by playing with Greg a few times before he left.  It was only then that I put my plan into action.  I was playing ball with myself bouncing it off the garage wall.  I made it go into Wilson’s yard a few times and then ‘accidentally’ managed to trample through the flowers just like father had done a quarter century before.  The setup was complete.

I waited the next morning until Mrs. Wilson and Grandma left, like they did several times a week for some woman’s thing, and then rang Mr. Wilson’s bell.  When he answered, I said “I’ve come to apologize, Sir.” and he invited me in.

“This must be serious, young man.  Tell me about it.” he said as he led me into his den.  I knew it was his den because it was just as Dad described.  I explained exactly like Dad told me he had so long ago.  “I feel like I’ve been here before, Joey.”

“Yes, Sir.  My father told me about the time he trampled your flowers when he was a boy.  This room is just like he described from then.”

Mr. Wilson smiled saying.  “Yes, I remember that.  You are just like your father.  Did your dad also tell you what happened then?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you think this should be any different for you?”

“Oh no, Sir.” I replied, “Most certainly not, Sir, for that would not be fair.”

Mr. Wilson moved to a simple chair on the side of the room and called me over.  I stood still as he opened my shorts and let them fall to my ankles.  Then he made my briefs join them.  My heart was racing as he turned me over his lap and gripped me tightly.

Just seconds later.  SPANK!  My very first real spank.

I was really not prepared for the pain and yelled but that just seemed to invite the next SPANK and many, many repetitions.  Soon I stopped yelling for I was bawling.  Eventually he stopped spanking me and parked me in the corner where I cried.

Mr. Wilson helped me to redress and wash my face before sending me home to think about being more careful.  I thanked him for being understanding and I went home but I was thinking about how I finally succeeded with my quest.

Gramps recognized something had happened and I had to tell him.  “It was just like Dad told me.” I explained.  He agreed not to tell my parents and good-heartedly rubbed some soothing cream on my hot bottom.

The End

* From: “I Am an American” by Elias Lieberman www.museumoffamilyhistory.com/mfh-lieberman-elias.htm    Return to story.

© Copyright A.I.L. July 28, 2020

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